Her Name Is Alice
by Jess017
Summary: One-shot. Inspired by the song 'Her Name Is Alice' By Shinedown.   If I had a world of my own, everything will be nonsense; nothing will be what it is, because everything will be what it isn't...


___If I had a world of my own, everything will be nonsense; nothing will be what it is, because everything will be what it isn't_... **her name is Alice.**

* * *

My day started like the usual, as I rubbed the sleet from my eyes, and stretched out on my back. I hummed and moaned, as I loosened my shoulders by shaking them up a little. I let my eyes drift open in their own time as I listened to my alarm, set on iPod. The song was strangely fuzzy, and I could hear a regular beep behind it, yet thought nothing of it. Strange technology!

When my eyes finally fluttered open, I looked down at my hand. It had blood smeared over it, especially the pointer that had just rubbed my eyes. Tiny cuts fitted in my skin, glass shards poked from every hole. Trickling down the arm was red, it pooled on my sheets. I blinked again, and it was gone. Except for one triangle of clear glass embedded in the flesh. Without a second thought, I grabbed onto the edge and pulled, tearing the white skin further. The crimson blood had no time to dry, as the glass simply turned back into sand and fell onto the floor in a coned pile.

I blew the sand away before it could become regularity.

My eyes rolled back in my head as I pulled myself up, and sat on the edge of the bed. The denim on my skinny blue jeans was all torn, and blood splattered, my toes black with filth, nails shattered, broken and torn, and the polish on them chipped. My littlest toe on my right foot stood out at an odd angle, obviously dislocated. I leant down and gave a little tug until it popped back into place.

I sighed, blinked, and looked down. The mint green cotton pyjama shorts I usually wore to bed had a slight wrinkle on the right side. I smoothed it out with my finger, but the crease was obviously not going to budge. I wriggled my toes, admiring the perfect shape and polish the lady at the shops had done.

Walking to the oval mirror that sat on my wall, I stumbled. My left shoulder flopped lifelessly from its normal position. I ignored it, and continued to the mirror.

Perfection. That's what my hairdresser said about the tendrils of blue-black hair that curled effortlessly to beyond my small waist. I picked up a white ribbon, and held it in my teeth as I curled the hair around my finger and rolled it into a bun. With a light tug, the ribbon slid through my teeth. Using both hands I circled the bun, and tied one knot in it, pulling tight. Then repeated, before tying a large bow on the back of my head. I slipped the end of my hair out of the bun, and watched as it cascaded out to form one long ponytail.

I blinked, and forced my hand through the short chop of hair on my head, standing it all up. Large bald marks showed where the scissor got to close to the scalp for an even shave, and dried blood matted most of it together. The spikiness of it tickled my hand so I took it away.

The top was ruined, but complete at the same time. The tears in the low cut black singlet showed my mid-drift, one huge, clotted bruise under my skin, and it was encrusted with dirt and mud. On the back were three even cuts that showed where the knife was plunged in and out, and in and out, and in and out. These were rimmed with dried blood which prevented them from fraying.

Yet somehow, the mint green colour suited my perfect pale completion to a Tee. It was loose and so comfortable to sleep in. The embroidered flowers in pale blue would usually be seen on a nineteen year old, but I wasn't some normal nineteen year old. And these pyjamas were my favourite.

The rhythmic beeping was getting louder. I turned to the alarm and glared.

When I turned back, I smiled at myself in the mirror, a black void wasn't filled where a tooth should be. Taking a little pill from a metal jewellery box that contained all my most precious items, I dissolved it, and two more on my tongue. A vein burst in the eye, causing it to turn an evil red colour. The other was fine, though.

I looked deeper into the looking glass. Past me, past my addiction.

Watching over the bed, my friend held my hand softly, gently stroking the flesh that wasn't bandaged. My brother stood behind her, gently massaging her shoulders as he quietly wept. I pulled a tear from his eye, and pushed back his bronze coloured hair from his eyes, but he didn't notice. I tucked a stray curl from my friends face behind her ear, and placed a bloodied kiss on her cheek. But she didn't notice.

I removed the ring from my finger. It was the one my boyfriend had given to me three summers back. My friend always loved it. I shoved it roughly in my brothers' pocket. He would give it to her. I looked at it still on my finger, and sighed before looking up.

There stood my boyfriend, in all his miserable glory looking over me. He walked forward to my crippled, lifeless form. My friend didn't notice him, nor did my brother. Nor did my doctor-slash-father that stood in the room, his arms encircling my mother who sobbed into the fabric of his long sleeve cotton shirt.

I looked down at my body. I was a goner, for sure. My boyfriend pressed his lips to mine, and I felt them tingle pleasantly.

'Jasper' I called out in my usual voice, just to let him know I was here.

He looked up into my eyes, and smiled sadly.

The denim on my jeans was repaired. The holes in my singlet fused together. My body was clean, and my toes healed and perfect. The glass in my skin like it was never there to begin with. My hair was long once more, and tied back in a little white ribbon.

I smiled back at him.

And flat-lined.

Bella gasped, and proceeded to bawl in Edward's arms. Edward stood by helplessly watching his elder sister cease to be. Carlisle restrained Esme who fought desperately to touch her daughter as the doctors and nurses fought to keep her alive.

But the drugs in her system where overbearing.

The wounds in her back unmistakably taking their own toll.

And the loss of the love of her life, too unfortunate to mention.

For when Jasper wrapped himself, his brother, Emmett, and his fiancé, Rosalie, around a tree at midnight, because of a stupid drunkard loser on the wrong side of the road, Alice was convinced that she could bring him back. And she did. To a place where there was no such thing as time, or death. And could only be reached with tiny dissolvable pills. Yet to reach this place with no time or death, slowly she died herself. Only to be attacked in the middle of the night, a knife plunged into her back, while she kept a smile on her face.

For to her, it was not real.

'Come on, my dear' Jasper held out his hand to her, 'this is not the end' he whispered in my ear, 'it is only the beginning'

* * *

_And contrary wise, what it is, it wouldn't be, and what it wouldn't be, it would. You see? _

**Hi! **

**Did you understand? It's alright it you didn't, it wasn't really meant to be understood. **

**In short, Jasper died, Alice resorted to drugs to keep him alive to her. The back and forth with the normal skin/ clothing and the disfigured skin/ clothing is her deciding wether to live, or die, where when she's disfigured she's living, and when she's normal, she's dying. **

**I thought of this after listening to 'Her Name Is Alice' by shinedown from a distance, and all I heard was the agonising line 'Her name is Alice', then when i went back and actually listened properly to it, it seemed to talk in riddles a bit. The italics are actually the start and end of the song, and it simply intriqued me :)**

**And this is what I came up with. **

**If you think its horrible, I don't mind, it's just apart of me expanding my writing abilities, if you loved it let me know, cos I actually want to know what people think of it... you know, really deep and meaningful. **

**Thanks for reading. **

**Jess**

PS. I don't own Twilight, or the lyrics or anything really, except this plot.


End file.
